


Hellhound

by Rugsrat



Series: Outpost Nova [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: (NOT HETALIA), Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alzheimer's Disease, Backstory, Child Death, Explicit Language, Gen, Iceland, LARPing, Post-Apocalypse, The apocalypse is not a nice place to live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 02:21:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11393370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rugsrat/pseuds/Rugsrat
Summary: Ariane Gauthier is busy enough in the apocalypse taking care of her ailing grandmother, and she doesn't need an orphaned child getting in the way of their survival.





	Hellhound

I’d heard crying the last three hours.

The backyard shed we’d locked ourselves into for the last two nights was virtually in the middle of nowhere. North enough to be past the worst of the Reykjavik lava flows, and remote enough that the demons and vampires figured it wasn’t much worth the effort.

So I really wasn’t expecting to hear crying. Not in February.

A kid crying was going to get us all three of us killed. Them, Amma, and me.

I waited until I had tucked Amma into bed, then eased out of the shed, shutting the door behind me and securing it with a piece of rope. I’d found a gun ages ago on the body of a police officer that looked like a mummy. But no bullets. he’d fired them all. But a gun is a gun and looks scary as hell. It felt heavy on my hip, and I listened for the crying some more.

I heard it clear as day when the wind died down around me, the ash and dust settling in motes at my feet. I breathed through the rag tied around my face, and looked through the dusty goggles I’d gotten weeks ago, traded with The Resistance some blankets for it.

Fuckers didn’t even say thank you, and they still wouldn’t take Amma. So I took the goggles and left.

The crying was coming from my right, a bit. There was a frozen creek not far off, and it made sense that sound could travel from there. I tried to move as quietly as I could. But there was still plenty of snow on the ground, and I ended up crunching a lot of it.

The crying stopped.

I stopped, and swept the area. The goggles dimmed my sight just a little, but it was worth keeping the ash out of my eyes.

I heard a sniffle coming from the creek. There was a decent overhang there that a small person could reasonably hide under.

“Hey, whoever you are, you can come out. I’m unarmed.”

The biggest bullshit lie I may have ever told in my life. My knife was already in my hand, and a heavy crowbar was along my back. But hey, sometimes honesty isn’t the best policy.

The sniffles stopped. I waited five seconds. Ten. Fifteen. Then sighed.

_“Parlez vous francais?”_ No response.

Then suddenly, I saw a hint of movement over the ridge. A streak of blonde hair and green eyes poking up to look at me. I lifted my goggles and lowered my mask, and coughed a little at the dust.

“You ok, kid?” The head ducked back down.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

I jumped down into the creek, and my boots cracked the thin layer of ice, and I thanked anyone listening for waterproof boots. They had cost me a week’s rations, but they were worth every can.

The girl was tiny. Rail-skinny. Gaunt, even. Like she’d barely eaten in a long time.

And she was definitely not dressed for this kind of cold weather. I handed her my coat. And it dwarfed her further. I checked her arms and neck for black lines that marked demon possession. And she was definitely too aware to be undead.

It didn’t look like she was bitten by anything. She just looked tired.

“What’s your name?”

No answer. Just looking up at me with those green eyes.

I didn’t have time for this, and I was already shivering in the frigid cold. I held out my hand for her to take. She didn’t take it.

I sighed and started walking away without a coat. If she wanted to be stubborn, i wasn’t going to stop her.

I heard her footsteps behind me. When I stopped, she stopped. I turned around. She was right behind me.

I held out my hand again. She still didn’t take it.

But she kept following me. Like a puppy.

I never liked dogs.

Oh well. We made it back to the shed without either of us saying another word. I untied the door, and brought the rope inside. The girl followed me with no complaint, and sat down next to pellet stove in the corner. I put another scoop of pellets on the fire, which I kept burning low. Just enough to make the room liveable.

The girl ate the granola bar I gave her ravenously. I imagined it was the only thing she’d had in days.

“Slow down, you’ll make yourself sick.”

She slowed down. Well, at least she could understand what I was saying, even if she didn’t feel like chatting.

I had a metal pan, a little deeper than a skillet, and put that on the stove, and cracked a can of what appeared to be yet more fucking pickled shark onto it so that it would thaw. The stuff smelled rank. But at least it was edible. Amma stayed asleep through dinner.

The girl ate the whole damn jar. I didn’t argue. Kid looked about ready to keel over.

But we’d need to have a talk about food rations.

I let the kid sleep in my spot in front of the door. She burrowed into my blankets and passed out almost immediately. I listened to the wind howl outside.

What the fuck was I gonna do? There was no way in hell I could take care of a kid. The Resistance was just slightly too far to travel without Amma.

Shit. Fuck.

I never expected to be a mom. Kids weren’t my thing. But I just had to go out and find the crying sound, didn’t I? Damn my bleeding heart.

Maybe this was why my dad never let me in on the business. I did puke the time I saw him shoot a guy in the knee, after all.

I spent the rest of the night staring at the girl as she slept. Where had she come from? How had she gotten to such a remote area on her own? Who would be looking for her? Because someone more than likely would be.

This was a mess.

But at least for next two days it was a quiet mess. Amma loved the girl. Insisted on making breakfast, such as it was. Stale oatmeal and one of the chicken eggs I had found a few days ago each.

Amma even remembered my name for most of the day. That was nice.

The girl still didn’t say anything. But she also didn’t cry, so I guess that was ok. I asked her name again at some point, but no such luck, but I at least got around to introducing myself.

The second night, Amma told the girl to sleep with her in her spot. Which was comfier. True. I had found some couch cushions for her.

The third day, I needed to go out. We needed more food. A third mouth to feed had fucked with my rationing, and the wind was kicking up again. This was going to be the best chance I had for a while. I told them both to stay put. Amma was spacing out. The girl nodded. I pulled her aside and briefly explained that Amma had a hard time remembering things, and to make sure she didn’t wander off.

The girl nodded again, like she understood everything I didn’t. I wish I’d been that confident at eight or nine. She pressed something into my hand. A bullet. I checked it against my gun, and it fit perfectly. Well, that was interesting.

I left, and told the girl to lock the door behind me.

I heard the heavy bolt slide into place.

Good kid.

I managed to find another house a few miles away, and crammed my backpack full of canned anything I could find, I didn’t even really look at the labels. I was almost home when I heard the howling.

There aren’t any wolves in Iceland.

_Fuck_.

I took off running, and when I crested the small hill to see the shack, there was a hellhound right outside the door, crashing against it.

I heard the wood splinter, and the occupants inside scream.

I had literally one bullet.

I had never fired a gun before.

I drew the gun, and shouted for the thing to turn around and look at me. It did. And those eyes burned at me. It hissed, and smoke spewed from its mouth and nose.

I was in so much trouble. It came running towards me. And I fired. I missed.

Of course I missed. I grabbed for my crowbar.

It went flying as the hellhound crashed into me. So hot it burned at my clothes and singed my hair.

The jaws closed in on my throat, and I had to force with all my strength just to keep its snarling maw away from my face. At one point, it bit my hand down to the bone. I’m sure I screamed.

I kicked with my legs, and threw it off me, then rolled and grabbed the crowbar from its place in the snow and ash, and swung with all my might.

I hit it right across the jaw, and heard something snap under the weight of the blow.

It hissed in pain. But couldn’t quite bite anymore, and decided that this was a good time to leave.

We’d have to move shop again. This time probably a bit closer back to civilization.

I turned around, and saw the door was open.

I _told_ that girl to stay put.

Then I saw the blood.

“No… No, no, nononono.”

I ran into the shed, and Amma was already there, holding the girl to her.

The front of her shirt was wet and red.

The girl was covered in blood.

From the bullet wound to her neck.

The bullet I fired. My world stopped for a few moments. When it started again, I was the one holding her, pushing her hair back, trying desperately to put pressure on the wound. Shouting at Amma to get some bandages.

But she was dying. The little girl was dying. The little girl I shot. A trembling hand reached up to me, and I took it. Her lips were blue now from lack of oxygen-filled blood reaching her head, I could see the light fade from her as she tried to say something through the blood pouring from her mouth.

The hand fell limp.

I held her until she was cold.

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of an ongoing series of short works detailing life moments of a LARP character that I play, as a means of getting into her head.


End file.
